This Tuesday, I decided to do something fun and different. I haven’t shared too much of my own writing on my blog yet, so I decided to share a few poems I wrote recently. I’m fairly good at writing poetry, but I guess my novel has demanded much more of my time and attention and kept me away from daydreaming about rhyming words and prose. So I feel a little obstinate towards my novel today in posting nothing but poetry!
Secret Sanctuary
A room smells of must and dust
This piano’s keys to touch I must
But some fresh air
From deep in this lair
Rustles my skirts and with each little gust
Comes a longing to discover this house turned to rust
*
The floorboards creak as I silently walk
Down empty halls with walls scribbled with chalk
But I’m afraid to touch
‘Cause of mildew and such
So I pass, heart beating, towards two large oak doors
Distracted on hearing wailing wind from outdoors
*
Should I keep going?
I am afraid
And yet, these doors seem to be calling me
Waiting to be opened
*
I take a deep breath and thrust my arms wide
Approaching the doors, one arm to each side
I step forward and push
Praying against ambush
Closing my eyes, yet eager to see
This unknown chamber I’ve let call to me
*
I squint and gasp, and look around
And laugh at myself; I’m quite safe and sound
Open windows with light
Add to my delight
Though the dust-choked room could be hiding an adversary,
I spin round to take in a huge library
*
Oh, if I were light enough to dance in the breeze
I clap my hands and exclaim with such ease
Who owns these books
Locked up as from crooks?
They smell and feel as old as a century
But this room is like home, this secret sanctuary
*
Thanking curiosity for venturing in
A house which for in decades no one has been
I take in this room
For though small, ’tis the womb
Of worlds and magic waiting behind these hard covers
Calling timid hearts, for they’re the true discoverers
Books
Books
I read them
I write them
I photograph them
I recommend them
I obsess over them
I blog about them
I organize them
I study them
I buy them
I love them
Books
Imagination
Some prefer a cozy armchair and spiced tea
by a fire
Still others enjoy the seat by the window
and the glass stained with
raindrops
Preferences vary in
the library, a bookstore, coffee shop, or the
garden outside
But for me, anywhere is
fine
As long as I remember to take my
imagination with me
because in the end, all you really need
to accompany and compliment
a book
is your wild imagintion
it can go
anywhere
But be careful, dear
There’s lots of worlds out there
These worlds are written on
paper
But they rely on our magic to
really see them
There are worlds full of purple trees and
lollipop roses
Others are cities with buildings sky high
And you also have
haunted castles basking in their
dark majesty
There are round planets and
flat ones
aliens strange and exotic
So you see,
my friend,
it’s not just the pages inviting you
but also your
imagination
to help guide you
For a book without imagination would
be dull
an abomination to nature and all things
good under the sun
But imagination without
a book
would result in only the most
direst circumstances
Be careful
for an imagination is wild and strong
it can break loose and run away
far away
begging you
to follow
And that’s it! I sort of enjoyed a Poemly Post and hope to do it again. What do you think? I welcome all criticism and feedback, so feel free to hit me on the head if you seriously thought I could have done better; I’ll take the hint.
Have a good day and good writing to you.
TEA WITH TUMNUS 